He only grunts in response. My mother turns back to me, grinning. “Take as much time as you need. Your father may be a pain in the ass, but he isn’t going anywhere any time soon, much to my disappointment.” She places another kiss on my forehead before taking the seat next to my father. His scowl lingers in her direction, but she pays it no mind. “What were you two discussing before I arrived, besides Isiah’s duty to produce heirs?”
A servant reaches over her shoulder to fill her teacup, and she nods in appreciation. My mother takes the sugar pot and dumps in spoonful after spoonful. She has always liked her tea sweet, but by the time the cup reaches her lips, it’s more sugar than tea.
“I was tellingIsiahthat he is to attend King Grager’s ball to see what thebastardis planning. I need to know so I can keep Daminae safe.”
My mother stills with her cup in hand, eyes darting between my father and me.“King Grager is throwing a ball, and we aren’t going?” Disappointment flashes across her face, and I can’t help but smile. My mother is the only one who enjoys going to these things.
My father sets his glass on the table harder than necessary and grumbles, “We are not going, Isabelle, because I am needed here in Daminae, not in Selen kissing Niethal’sfuckingboots and congratulating him on a treasure he should never have found.”
I frown at him, but as I open my mouth to say something, my mother cuts me off. “What happened between you and Niethal is in the past, Rikard. I wish you could let it go. Lethergo.” Anger and sadness cross my mother’s face, and I want to punch my father for putting them there. But he doesn’t see the hurt or ignores it, and turns toward me.
“There are things you don’t know about Niethal and the kings that you can discover by attending the ball. Think of it as practice for managing political allies and foes. We shall celebrate upon your return, with gained information and maybe even a future bride, if you are so lucky.”
My mother takes a sip of tea and leans back in her chair, appearing disheartened.
I scowl at my father, at the bastard he is. For all his talk about finding a wife and continuing the family legacy, he doesn’t care much for the one he has. In his ranting, though, he’s finally said what he wants. Not only my attending the ball but spying for him.
My voice comes out sharp as I ask, “Why not go yourself? If you want to gather information, why not take your elite guard and make a show of it? Why send me in your stead?”
He stills with the glass at his lips,glaring at me over the rim, and snaps, “You will go because I told you to and because it’s less suspicious if you are slinking around than if I am. They would track my every movement while you will be disregarded as a mere prince among kings. Think with your brain next time before you speak, Isiah.” He tips the glass back and swallows the remaining contents in one gulp.
My mother’s eyes remain fixed on her cup, not noticing our heated exchange.
I shift in my chair stiffly. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. With Niethal and my father’s history of mutual loathing, the Selen guards would watch him too closely. So instead of continuing this conversation, which will only end in an argument and my going anyway, I agree with my father’s wishes. In a week, I will attend King Grager’s extravagant ball.
I can hardly wait.
“We are goingwhere?” Mikal asks as we make our way to the training room.
“Selen. To Castle Grager to celebrate Niethal’s new treasure, or that’s what my father said. What he is more interested in is us spying.”
Mikal runs a hand through his golden-brown hair and gives a deep, weighted sigh. “You keep saying ‘us,’ but I don’t think your father will allow you to go without at least one of his guards. He’ll want them there to keep an eye on you.”
A part of the invitation that had my father cursing over his glass was the limit of five court members from each kingdom, including guards. He nearly spat his drink at me when I told him my plan to bring Thom, Liam, Mikal, and Corren. He wanted to saddle me with his guards to ensure I did as he bid. Lucky for me, my friends are the best soldiers in Thorne’s Legion and he knows it.
After a bit of back and forth, he finally agreed, or the alcohol worked far enough into his mind to make him stop caring. Whichever event occurred, I now get to bring the guards of my choosing, and I trust them with my life. The five of us have known each other and trained together since childhood.
Mikal, the youngest—and most handsome, if you ask him—is the bastard of some lord from my father’s court, but instead of claiming Mikal as his own, the lord took him from his mother and gave him to the Legion, who willingly accepted. Not even his perfect smile, tanned skin, and blue eyes could buy the favor of his sire.
Thom’s the second youngest yet acts like the older brother of our group. His father died before he was born, and his mother needed help paying bills, so he joined at ten years old.
Liam is the oldest, and the largest, both in height and size. He grew up in the poorest part of Thorne, his father a farmer and mother a tailor. When his father took ill and couldn’t work, his family had to lessen the number of mouths to feed, leaving Liam, the eldest son, to join the Legion.
Finally, Corren, the most levelheaded of us, came from the colder Kingdom of Tyrone but moved here shortly after his mother died. His father was originally from Thorne, so they moved back to be with family. When he turned ten, he joined the Legion on his own, wanting to help his father earn money.
My father believed a king’s son should know how to fight and lead armies, so instead of leaving me with my mother, he would dump me in the barracks with the Legion to toughen me up. His plan worked, but not how he had hoped. Instead of becoming the detached leader he wanted, I became a soldier who found a group of friends that are like brothers, and I treat them as such, much to his chagrin.
“I have already talked to him, and he agreed.” I tilt my head and give a half shrug. “Well, maybe not so much agreed, but we’ll see if he remembers when he is sober.”
Mikal snorts. “He is never sober.”
“Exactly. So it’s settled. I just need to tell the others so we can prepare.”
Mikal shakes his head and chuckles as we continue moving down the hall.
“Isiah, wait!” My mother’s voice echoes down the corridor as she hurries toward us. “I need to talk to you.”Her steps slow as she approaches and her gaze shifts to Mikal. She smiles. “Hello, dear. How have you been?” Standing on tiptoes, she kisses his cheek, balancing herself on his arm.
Mikal lays a hand over hers and squeezes, fondness brightening his face. “I’m well. Just training and having fun when I can.”